Page 92 of The Guardian's Curse

“Will they, now? Because the last I heard, you were committed to being a free agent. Not blood bound or anything,” he said. He sniffed the air. “I just smell grade-A witch. Though it smells like you’ve been fucking a vampire. Tsk, tsk.” He patted Ruby’s thigh with a noisy smack. “And now I’ll have two pet witches. First we’ll take out Cristiano, and then the Auberon. It won’t be particularly hard, considering you can unravel all the security at Infinity.”

Horror prickled through her. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Don’t you remember how I was voted mostly likely to succeed in high school? I’m going to be the Baron of Atlanta before I turn thirty.”

She wanted to laugh in his face. Even as an immortal vampire, he was still hung up on the past. But as foolish as it was, this was very real. She held back her derisive laugh and softened her voice. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Please, just let me go. What if I offered to help you? We can make a deal.”

He shook his head, then dashed out of sight. Ruby squawked in protest as she stumbled and hit the floor like discarded garbage.

Cold hands squeezed her upper arms as his lips grazed the back of her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, tamping down her revulsion. “You had your chance to do this the easy way. You know those wonderful action movies, where the villain gives a big speech so the hero has time to escape and thwart his plan? “

She was silent, fighting to breathe evenly. Even though he could surely hear her racing heart and smell the fear on her, it made her feel better to control what little she could.

“I’m not that stupid,” he said. His grip tightened, and suddenly, there was the coppery bite of blood in the air. Hot warmth pressed to her lips.

Fury flooded through her at the violation. She bit him as hard as she could. It was horrifying to sink her teeth into pliable, living flesh, through the thick resistance of skin and muscle.

“Fuck,” he growled, still not breaking his grasp.

Vampire blood spilled over her tongue. The taste turned her stomach at first, but it quickly transformed into something intoxicating. It was the darkest chocolate, the richest coffee, hot and cold, numbing her mouth and igniting a flame in her core. Even as the last fragment of resistance screamed don’t! her lips sealed to his skin and drank.

“That’s one way to get a taste,” he said. He still held her firmly as she drank.

Her will meant nothing. The taste of him turned her to a primal creature of hunger. He released her hair and stroked her head instead.

“That’s it,” he said gently. There was a strange ripple as his muscles flexed, and he pulled his arm away.

She was wheezing and gasping for air, but she wanted more even as the warm red dripped down her chin. “More.”

“No. Too much and I’ll be weak tonight,” he said. Then he slowly circled her and knelt in front of her. He tilted her face up and wiped the blood from her lip. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“I’m cursed,” she said. “I need to break it before I turn to stone.”

“Turn to stone...” he said absently. “Never mind.” He gently touched her cheeks and brought his face close to hers. “Look in my eyes.”

Through the intoxicating haze, she felt the sense of alarm, that she was about to fall into something far worse. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. Elliott gripped her chin and spoke again. His voice reverberated down her spine, as if she was the clapper in a massive church bell. “Shoshanna. Look into my eyes.” Her eyes opened slowly. His red eyes were just inches away. “You’re mine now. Just like it always should have been.”

At the words you’re mine, it felt as if he reached into her chest and gripped her heart. Suddenly her thoughts of escape, of despair and fear, were no more than pesky afterthoughts. She had one thing in mind right now, and that was to please Elliott. Her tongue darted over her lip to catch a lingering drop of his blood. It tasted sweet beyond description, with the decadent satisfaction of melted chocolate and fresh whipped cream. It sent a shock of warmth down her spine to settle between her thighs. The flicker of arousal reminded her of Alistair.

In a rush of warmth rising in her chest, he pushed through the ponderous weight of Elliott’s control. Alistair wouldn’t do this to her. And he would be homicidally furious with Elliott. Despite the command in his blood, she didn’t want to serve Elliott. She wanted to be home with Alistair.

She shook her head and took a shuddering breath. “Not yours,” she managed to say. The words seemed to fight her, but she spat them out finally.

Elliott gripped her throat. The warm rumble of satisfaction in his voice turned to a sharp edge. “You are mine,” he said slowly. “Bound to me by blood.” There was a strange swelling in her chest that radiated down her arms and legs. “Tell me who you belong to.”

Alistair’s face, burning red eyes and bony horns and all, faded into a red haze, leaving Elliott’s face in her mind. He was crystal clear in front of her. How had she never noticed how beautiful he was? His eyes were the color of roses in deep shade, framed in thick, dark lashes. She could stare into his eyes forever.

“I’m yours,” she said in an awed voice.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, we have a lot of work to do.”

23

Twilight still hung thick and heavy as Alistair awoke with the heavy weight of regret upon his chest. His alarm had not rung, but his racing mind would not let him sleep any longer. He growled and staggered to the door to listen for sounds of Shoshanna moving about the house. It was eerily silent.

He feared the worst. He was all but certain that he would find her sprawled on the floor. Would she be unmoving stone like Lucia? Or would she be dead and cold, having given herself an aneurysm with too much magic?

He threw the door open and lurched up the stairs. Relief washed over him when he heard the insistent thrum of a heartbeat. He followed the sound, then paused, frozen in place. There was no smell of blood in the air. Then again, after the way they’d shouted at one another, he hardly expected her to have a meal waiting for him. But the air was too still and stagnant. Usually he rose to the smell of coffee and something savory in the air, the remnants of whatever she had eaten for dinner.

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